...And I inch oh so slowly towards my 360. Come onnnnnnn.

I am now the proud owner of an Xbox 360. Sort of.



It is my Christmas present and it is in the house. But the former means I'm not allowed it until, that's right, Christmas. It's very difficult, knowing there is such a machine in the house and I'm not allowed to caress it and admire it's bountiful curves. More frustrating still is the fact that a shiny, cellophane-wrapped copy of Fallout 3 is sitting on the dining table, taunting me.



Add to that the fact that a copy of Gears of War 2 is safely nestled in the box alongside the 360, and you are pretty close to an image of my own personal hell.

There is also a Wii in the house, which is my brother-in-law's Christmas present, and I'm not allowed to touch that either. But that's okay because he only has Mario and Sonic at the Olypmics, and Sonic can eat my poo.

Roll on Christmas!

Words cannot express my joy at seeing a survival horror TV show on national television, especially one that revolves around a zombie outbreak.* Add to that the fact that Charlie Brooker wrote the thing and you pretty much have a guaranteed winner.
So taken am I with the show that I have already pre-ordered the DVD, and the only things I have ever pre-ordered are any records Ryan Adams puts his name to. So that should give you some indication of how much I like this programme.
In my opinion, which is the most important opinion of all, there should be more TV shows like Dead Set, and more horror shows in general.



*For future reference, I fucking love zombies.

Hello all. It is I. The mighty skooks. The skooksmeister. The skooksatron. She of arrogance.

No, really though, this is (obviously) a (new) blog (of mine) that belongs to me. Yes, yes I have a LiveJournal but I don't blog there, I just moan and join communities where users post multiple pictures of Tina Fey that brighten my day all day every day. Day.

This blog is bad timing however since I am moving house on Sunday, and thus will lose my internet for a little while. This terrifies me. How will I cope? What will I do? Will I be expected to speak to my mother? Or go for walks? Or urinate in an actual toilet instead of my desk chair?
Only time will tell.